


I'll Catch Up to You

by itswallie



Category: DC Animated Universe, DCU, DCU (Animated), Young Justice, Young Justice (Cartoon)
Genre: M/M, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-01
Updated: 2014-05-24
Packaged: 2018-01-21 12:09:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 8
Words: 15,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1549979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itswallie/pseuds/itswallie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>YJAM PROMPT: Nightwing goes back in time to December 2010 to secretly save the YJ team during a difficult case in the Yukon that they wouldn't have otherwise made it through. But it looks like he might have a special message for Wally...</p><p>There are several Timelines in the course of this story, and Timeline ZERO corresponds <i>exactly</i> to canon. Our story opens in Timeline THREE, however, and so things have been different for a long "time" already, and Dick's already little bit of a different person.</p><p>In <i>every</i> Timeline, the mission in the Yukon occurs on December 10, 2010, Team Year Zero, in between the events of <i>Insecurity</i> and <i>Performance</i>. In "CANON," during Timeline Zero, the Yukon mission was a straightforward, uneventful success and was of no real interest, so it "didn't make it into the show." </p><p>Timeline One tells a very different story.</p><p>The rest of the story in every Timeline occurs during the timeskip BEFORE Season 2 and is completely resolved by the time the invasion happens.</p><p>
  <i>For more details see notes at the end of the story.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Book I Fling

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kingburu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kingburu/gifts), [Emileesaurus](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emileesaurus/gifts), [foxfireflamequeen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/foxfireflamequeen/gifts).

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Timeline Three  
> Team Year Zero  
> December 10, 2010  
> 2:36 PM
> 
> Storage Warehouse  
> Light's Tactical Complex  
> Alpine Ski Resort  
> Yukon, Canada

Wally couldn't breathe, and the soft crack in his chest warned him that one of his ribs was breaking. He shuddered and vibrated, rattling his bones anyway, because what’s a rib or two between friends? Literally between them: Superboy had Wally sandwiched between his arms and his chest, squeezing tighter and tighter. The freezing cold mountain air bit at Wally’s throat as he struggled to inhale past Conner’s grip and buzz his way out. But the heat and friction Wally generated didn't bother the Kryptonian in the least—Superboy just growled and squeezed Wally's torso harder, and Wally gagged against the pain.

Miss Martian hovered above the giant doors of the hanger-sized warehouse that led to the ski slopes beyond, while Aqualad circled carefully around her, moving gingerly over the snow blowing inside. He did his best to engage and distract his brainwashed teammate, but she deflected his water attacks with a robotic, almost casual efficiency—one turn of her hand and a telekinetic tendril brushed the ice cold stream aside. On the other side of the room, Artemis struggled to outmaneuver Robin, but he had her cornered behind a pile of battered red ski lift chairs. Her bows weren't very effective at close range—and Robin  _was_. Maybe even deadly. His laugh echoed throughout the warehouse, and for the first time, it really creeped Wally out.

It was a thoroughly uneven match, though not the least because the three sober superheroes held back considerably to avoid hurting their friends.

"Supey," Wally wheezed one more time, "Supey, it's  _us_. You've got a mind-control …"

Superboy crushed the last of Wally's breath out of him, and he wilted, gasping. His hair fluttered as another one of the warehouse windows shattered, sending glass and debris through the room. The squall outside was terrible, and a chunk of rock flew at Conner’s back. Wally opened his mouth to warn him, but it was too late, and Conner didn’t even _register_ the hit.

They were really screwed.

An exhausted Wally caught Kaldur’s eye with a worried glance, and he nodded grimly in return.

Robin carefully paced around Artemis as she scrambled up an industrial-sized snow blower to gain distance and higher ground on the acrobat. As soon as she cleared the floor, Aqualad studied her for a moment before yelling: "Aim for the device on Superboy's neck! If you miss he won't be hurt!"

Artemis nodded tersely but snorted. "Like I'll miss," she said dismissively under her breath.

She drew a green arrow and took aim at the back of Superboy's neck where the device was embedded. Wally, who had been fading in and out of consciousness, snapped back to life. He was inches away from the blinking green box.

"Wait, what? _Dude_ , don't aim arrows at my  _head_!" he squeaked.

"Don't whine, Baywatch," Artemis said, and let the arrow fly. The arrow flowed toward the Kryptonian, and Wally leaned as far away from the box as he could, struggling against the pain, one eye squeezed shut and the other on the incoming bolt. He didn’t even need to do that much, though.

It was a perfect shot.

Until Robin stepped in front of it to take it in the chest.

Time froze, and everyone with it, except Wally. He kicked and vibrated like there was no tomorrow, and soft coils of smoke curled up and faded from Superboy’s now smoldering t-shirt. He was stuck in hypertime; there was nothing for him to do but watch a twisted play of Zeno’s paradox unfold in front of him as the arrow crossed half the distance between Artemis and Robin, and half again, and half again, and part of Wally hoped that the famous paradox puzzle would never resolve, but—

—a  tiny projectile whizzed down from the catwalks in the ceiling. Inches before the arrowhead embedded itself into Robin's heart, the blade sliced the shaft in half, knocking it off-course. The arrow cut his uniform open, but as it deflected to the side, it left only a scratch—a deep one, but just a scratch nonetheless—across his breast. Robin barely noticed and continued to advance on Artemis, giggling ominously.

Wally, Artemis, and Aqualad's eyes shot up toward the source of the weapon, but they couldn't see anything—and they had more pressing concerns at the moment. Robin had grabbed Artemis's ankle and tripped her; she barely kept him at bay with her bow. M'gann tossed Aqualad across the room, and Wally was starting to wonder how long it would take to heal from two punctured lungs and a crushed heart.  _Two weeks? Eternity?_

His hair ruffled in a breeze as someone—or something—flew just behind Superboy's head.

"Yoink."

The mind-control box crackled with green sparks as it was half-ripped from the nape of Superboy's neck, and he dropped Wally immediately. Trying to simultaneously keep one eye on the figure who’d gone by, Wally scrambled to avoid Conner’s crushing weight as he groaned and collapsed onto his knees. In a dark corner of a catwalk by the ceiling, there was another bright green flash as the rest of the device crumbled and a whir of a retracting cord, but unfortunately, the light it gave off wasn't enough to illuminate the mystery man. _At least, he'd sounded like a dude._

Wally took a few deep breaths—dammit, one of his lungs  _might actually be_ punctured—but he could deal. A growl from the other side of the room caught his ear, and he took after Robin, who was still hunting Artemis; three more batarangs whizzed by her ears before Wally managed to get between them. Robin dodged the wounded speedster, one foot out to catch his ankle, but Wally was still a second ahead, and he finally tackled Robin to the ground. He couldn't hold the boy down and get the device at the same time, though.

"Artemis! Help me get this thing o—ooo _ouuffff_!"

The Boy Wonder kneed him in the balls and squirmed away, giggling. As Wally doubled over, another laugh echoed throughout the building—it was stifled, but somehow familiar and strange still at the same time.

"Owowow ... not funny, dude," he growled into the darkness. Robin mindlessly returned to his task of subduing Artemis, and Wally stumbled to his feet, clutching his wounded ribs and, well, pride. He wasn't feeling very fast at the moment.

"Let him catch you!" called Wally weakly.

Artemis ducked under Robin's arms again. " _What?"_

"It's ok! I got you both! Just let him grab you!"

Artemis narrowed her eyes at the yellow and red boy, but she stopped running. Robin pounced on her, and Wally pounced on him. They collapsed in a struggling dog pile until Wally pinned him again, and Arty snapped off part of the device. Robin collapsed, but he didn't pass out.

Wally bent over him with a concerned little frown, massaging his aching ribs. "You ok?'

"Uhng." Robin dragged his thick black gloves over his eyes as he came to. "Killer headache," he said, glancing down at his ruined uniform and the scratch across his chest. "... what the hell?"

"Kind of a weird story …" Wally began, pointing over at the strange batarang-like weapon that had saved Robin’s life, now lodged in a wooden crate.

" _Artemis! Kid Flash!"_ Aqualad shouted. "Superboy and I need help subduing Miss Martian …  _now!_ "

Wally and Artemis helped Robin to his feet, and they stumbled toward the door, leaning against the snow and wind.

In the rafters, a figure clad in black and blue was rubbing his biceps vigorously and hopping back-and-forth from foot to foot. His teeth chattered.

 _Crap,_ he thought.  _Where are they going?_ He panicked as the trio was almost out the building.  _You guys are supposed to … Dammit, what the hell?_

 _Dammit_. He ran through a couple of options he had, and chose the one closest to what was "supposed" to happen. His grappling gun whirred as it landed in the side of a small box on top of the crate that had his modified batarang. He dragged it off.

Robin glanced behind him in the direction of the soft clatter. He let his friends go ahead while he carefully snuck back; his eyes went wide with surprise as he noticed the bird-shaped blue batarang. Robin's gaze shot right up to where the hero hid in the darkness, and the young man held his breath. Robin didn't stop looking, though, so the figure slid closer to the wall, just in case.

 _Go on, go on._ He mentally egged on the red-and-black kid below him.  _You know you want it …_

Wally called for Robin again, and Robin hesitantly looked back over his shoulder before pulling the batarang out of the crate and hurriedly stashing it in his belt as he ran out the door.

 _Oh thank God,_  the hero breathed. He tucked away his grappling gun and climbed out a window and onto the roof, a conspicuous back dot against a field of white, for those who wanted to look. But no one did. So far, no major players out of place.

 _But I don't remember that box falling_. He frowned.  _Maybe I just forgot._

It had been a while.

 _There should be a time traveler’s manual for this crap._ He shivered again.  _Also, why didn't I wear a damn parka the first time around?_

… he briefly wondered if a total rewrite of history would be worth risking a new coat.


	2. Fall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Timeline Three  
> Team Year Zero  
> December 10, 2010  
> 5:02 PM
> 
> Summit Field  
> Light's Tactical Complex  
> Alpine Ski Resort  
> Yukon, Canada
> 
> \---  
> This chapter has slightly more than cosmetic changes; it explains a little more about some of Nightwing's decisions. It's nothing critical for overall understanding, but you might enjoy re-reading it.

Four hours later, the black and blue hero crouched in the branches of a green fir tree on the edge of a snow field and glanced at his compact holo-watch. The mission timeline outlined in the old reports he dug up before he left flickered open.

 _Hmm. About t-minus eleven minutes._ That should hit it.

His legs cramped as he shifted in his tiny perch; he'd stared at the open snow field in front of him for almost two-and-a-half hours. The white blanket he'd "borrowed" from one of the abandoned ski lodges nearby _barely_ kept the frosty weather at bay, and a thermos half-filled with hot chocolate he'd also "borrowed" had stopped steaming ten minutes after he sat down. He took a sip, and the red container wobbled precariously as he balanced it again between two branches at his feet.

Night was descending; he was starting to get really cold.

"Achoo!"

… _Bless me._ Another minute passed.

And another. _This is phenomenally boring._

His eyes started to drift shut for a power nap— _when was the last time he’d slept?_  "When" was a relative term, he supposed, but had been a couple of days at least. Just as he was about to do something drastic to keep himself awake—maybe blast _The Song That Never Ends_ through his own closed comm—to keep himself awake, a crackle of an energy blast burst off to his left by the nearest mountain.

 _Finally_ , he moaned. _Killer Frost and Mad Hatter kick things off …_

There was the sound of a collapsing rock— _there goes the mine_ —and a small dot blurred toward him from the horizon.

He snapped a pair of shiny, round blue goggles down over his mask, and the familiar pattern of the digital readout—almost exactly like Wally’s—spread across his field of vision. A quick button press flipped on the binocular lenses.

_Cue KF running this way …_

A yellow-and-red figure cut a ribbon through the blinding white snow _._ Slowed only slightly by the soft snow underneath his feet, Kid Flash loomed large in his vision.

_Hmm. His suit’s malfunctioning. It should be white._

Kid Flash held a black device covered in raw wiring.

_Cue exploding bomb ..._

A red light on the bomb blinked faster and faster—Dick knew it was accompanied by a terrifying, shrill beep—Wally skidded to a halt in the middle of the snow field and looked desperately around him. The group was behind him, still fighting Killer Frost and Mad Hatter's goons. In front of him sat a string of abandoned ski lodges. To his right sat the forest, and his left, the blank mountain side.

The redhead frowned and dashed as hard and fast up the side of the mountain, throwing the bomb as hard and high as he could at the last second.

 … _aaaaaand cue mini-avalanche._

Dick felt preternaturally calm as a chunk of snow slid down the side of the mountain toward his best friend and threatened to overwhelm him. No worries.

  _... not the best of choices, dude. But it's all ok because you outran—_

The sheet of white engulfed Wally, who was clutching his side and wading just faster than human speed through the deep snow. His heart skipped a beat in his chest

  _... ok, you dug yourself out of ..._

The hillside stilled. No.

  _... dig yourself ouuuutt ..._

He frowned, shifting uncomfortably in the branches, his foot bouncing up and down on the lower one with anxiety. _Come on, come on, you were fine. Come on ..._

The ticking of his watch was deafening; his throat was dry and tongue thick in his mouth as he raced for an explanation as to how Wally was apparently buried alive all those years ago but ten minutes later was chilling under a tree— _collapsed, exhausted, basically unconscious, but **alive**_ —when _Robin_ and everyone else had found him in the snowy meadow.

 _Alright, I guess someone else dug you out?_ His heart raced. The entire team was still just outside the collapsed cave—they had **_stayed_ ** by that mine until they’d found him together _. Who could it have been?_

 _Punctured lung here, people!_ He definitely, definitely hadn't forgotten that. _Was it me? How could it have been me? He never said anything about a stranger ..._

 _Nonononono no **no**. Don't interfere, don't get  **close**. _ Still no one came by, and the winds shifted a snow drift across the surface of the field, and with it, a cold panic consumed him. 

_Ok, I don't freaking care who it was._

He dashed out of the tree, dragging the white blanket over himself to camouflage his black form scurrying across the white field. He pulled up the infrared on his goggles.

_Where the hell are you, Wally?_

A tiny red-and-orange dot flickered— _fading, **fading**_ —in his field of black, and the hero picked up the pace.

  _... Thank God you burn twice as bright._

The snow got softer and softer the closer he got to his friend, and he was slogging through slush before he found the speedster. Wally was face down, essentially drowning as his high temperature melted the ice around him. Wally had a pulse, but he wasn't breathing. The black-and-blue boy flipped his bright yellow friend over and tilted his chin up—and paused, fingers shaking as he gently open the younger boy's mouth.

He took one deep breath before leaning over Wally. Make that two.

_Ok, you can do this. Just keep it together.  Just don't get too **close**._

Lightly chapped lips formed a seal over Wally's, and he gently breathed out, keeping one eye on the red lightning insignia to make sure it rose and fell.

_1 ... 2 … 3 … 4 … 5_

 Another breath. He tasted a little like fresh limes and sugar.

_1 ... 2 … 3 … 4 … 5_

One more. He tasted _the same_.

Wally started coughing and choking on the water he'd swallowed, and the hero leaned back on his knees, panting. He did his best to ignore his tingling lips. The speedster looked up blearily, still half-unconscious.

"Hi," the person over him whispered.

"Who ...?"

The sunset glowed behind the shadow; Wally couldn't quite make out the back-lit face in the twilight. If he had, he would see the young man blushing bright red.

"Am I dead?"

 _Are you … what?_ The figure sucked in his breath. "Not if I have anything to do with it. Come on, let's get you to the forest.”

He scooped the boy up in his arms and waded through the loosely packed snow, the blanket half-draped over the two of them. He heard clamoring behind them, and he made a beeline for the copse of trees nearest the rendezvous point at the lodge.

Wally groaned as he set him down underneath the evergreen. He cradled his head and set it gently against the rough tree bark.

"You ok?" he whispered.

"Yeah ... Robs is that...?"

The hero flushed and sucked in another breath. "It's Nightwing, babe."

"It's night time?" Wally let out a confused sound; his eyes drifted closed in shock and exhaustion The snow was bathed a soft pink in the evening light, and some stars twinkled above him. He gently ran his fingers through Wally's hair.

"Uh, yeah."

The rest of their troupe sifted through the snow half a field away.

"Wally, where ar—" called Miss Martian.

"Shush!" interrupted Robin. They still weren't sure where Killer Frost and the Mad Hatter were.

Nightwing glanced over his shoulder. They were almost on top of them.

"Gotta go. Take care." He silently retreated up a tree by the lodge.

Robin spotted Wally under the tree and broke into a sprint. He bent down to his semi-conscious friend, filling Nightwing's slightly larger silhouette that had hung over the wiped-out speedster a second before. Wally opened his eyes again.

The acrobat smiled. "Oh great, you made it."

Wally grinned back.

"Yeah, thanks  _'babe'_ ," he laughed.

Robin wrinkled his brow and turned toward the others in the group. Everyone kind of shrugged in confusion, and Dick huffed a laugh and shook his head, already reaching for Wally’s hand to pull him up.

 _Oh_. As he eavesdropped from the tree, Nightwing’s stomach knotted with a bittersweet emotion he couldn’t quite name. **_That's_** _what he meant by "babe."  I—I can’t believe I forgot about that_.  He’d had more pressing concerns at the time. He'd been dumb.  _Huh._

Truth be told, though, the little slip of his memory made Nightwing deeply nervous, and he fought back a twinge of panic and helplessness. _What else have I forgotten? I got lucky, I guess, with that one, but what if I miss something else? Something **important**? What if there were other things that Wally or the rest of the team just never even **told** me?_

The sun slipped below the horizon, and the little band shifted to give Wally room as he stumbled to his feet. Aqualad spoke up. "We've lost Mad Hatter and Killer Frost. I think it wise that we try to get some rest this evening."

"That lodge looks pretty break-into-able," Artemis commented. Robin nodded agreement. He shuffled under Wally's arm and helped him limp toward the building.

Nightwing scurried just ahead of them through the trees and over the roof, crouching down behind the chimney.

 _T-minus a minute-thirty. Give or take._  He listened closely as the two boys made their way slowly toward the nearest window. Artemis and Aqualad were breaking the locks on the window below him.

Wally tripped and cradled his cracked ribs.

"You don't look too hot," commented Robin.

 _Pfft_ , laughed Nightwing.

"Yeah," muttered Wally. "I think I may have hurt my lung."

"Maybe we should get you back to the Batpla …"

Nightwing kicked a branch off the roof and stood up. Robin glanced up at the roof and squinted. A black figure stood by the brick chimney, haloed by the red and purple rays of the setting sun.

_Cue heroic pose ..._

Wally coughed next to Robin and caught the younger boy's attention. "No, dude … it's too …"

_One minute I'm here ..._

Nightwing started to crouch down while Robin was looking away … and he slipped on some ice just behind him.

"Ooof!" He tumbled backwards and onto the other side of the building, flailing for a hand hold.

"... dangerous," Wally continued, coughing loud enough to cover up Nightwing's fall. "I'll heal soon enough."

Robin glanced up again at the roof. It was empty.

Nightwing sighed as he dangled from the gutter.

…  _the next minute I'm not._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, this was (part of) the original Author's notes:  
>  __
>
>> Wow, so many nice replies and alerts already! Isn't this prompt awesome? Thanks to the amazing OP who came up with it! Livejournal is being weird, and it's not showing up in the individual thread for the prompt (but it shows up in that thread on the main page with all the others). Hopefully I can get it to work. I wonder if people tracking the thread can still see it. Anyway! This is consuming me, so here's more. **It's like 60% done (two more chapters before the middle that's all written out).**  
> 
> 
>   
>  Hahaha,"It's like 60% done." Hahahahaha, oh that's _funny_. "60%" *wipes away tear of laughter* 


	3. Flicker

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Timeline Three  
> Team Year Zero  
> December 10, 2010  
> 5:25 PM
> 
> Summit Ski Lodge  
> Light's Tactical Complex  
> Alpine Ski Resort  
> Yukon, Canada

Nightwing dangled from gutter on the humongous, sloping roof over a three story drop to the snow banks below. The edge of the roof was at least eight feet from the building; several giant wooden beams extending between the wall and gutter supported it. There was more than enough empty space in the triangle between the wall, under the roof, and above the beams for Dick to fit, and he wiggled to a break between the beams. He swung from the gutter, back and forth, until he had the momentum to flip gracefully under, up, and over onto one of the wooden supports. Crouching, the hero padded silently toward the narrow, horizontal windows where the building met the underside of the roof.

Nightwing wiped away the grime coating one window pane and peeked in. They opened onto the main lounge, a cavernous room swathed in darkness between the steep slabs that made the roof. He flipped on the night vision in his speedster-style blue goggles and saw ten or so support beams crisscross from one side of lounge to the other, at least 15 feet above the floor.

Everyone had gotten inside safely: half a dozen light blue figures, like amporphous ghosts in his nightvision, filtered in through the doorway and huddled around the fireplace, tiny in the encroaching black shadows. Someone—it looked like Kaldur—was already distributing blankets from the couches and cupboards.

Nightwing frowned thoughtfully and rubbed his freezing arms. The nearest lodge was at least a five minute walk from here on solid ground, never mind the snow.

 _I don't want to go too far away._ _Uh, in case they need me._

He mentally rewound the events of this night—the night that he remembered, a night he was painstakingly trying to reproduce. In fact, a lot  _could_  go wrong tonight. A  _lot_. But he didn't remember a tall, dark— _handsome—_ stranger joining them for s'mores around the fire. So he definitely wasn’t _there_ -there.

_But what if “I” helped, and nobody—including fourteen-year-old-me—noticed? Can I get away with it?_

They hadn't turned on the electricity to avoid getting spotted.  _Darkness, check._

They'd built a very small fire.  _I can see them, but not vice versa in the rafters._

If things went as planned, he was pretty sure everyone and everything stayed mostly on the floor. _No wandering people to surprise me, check._

 _And then there was Wally’s_ —

Nightwing’s brow furrowed. _Ok, I'm definitely going in. I can get away—I probably DID get away with it. I'll just stick to the crossbeams and corners._

He sighed. He had to be totally invisible, even if they needed his help.  _Don't screw this up, Grayson._ Nightwing shook off his nerves as best he could.  _No, all this worked out before, or I wouldn't even_ BE _here; it will work out again._

He pulled out a screwdriver and started unfastening the hinges along the bottom of the brown metal windowsill. Deftly sliding an arm under the window, he quietly jiggled the lock free and set the pane down on the inner beam that ran along the side of the room.

Artemis was fooling around with the fireplace; the gas seemed to be off. "We're out of luck for heat,” she announced. “Maybe this place has been abandoned too long."

Robin frowned. "Our intel says that it's only been shut down for a couple of weeks."

"I guess it's time to break out the candles and blankets," Artemis shrugged.

Aqualad pursed his lips with concern. "I'll check out the closets for more supplies."

 _Hmm._ Dick paused just outside. _There was definitely fire in this building before._ And the gas  _had_ been on in the other lodge where he’d grabbed the blanket and hot chocolate just a couple hours before. He backed away from the window and hurriedly leapt from beam to beam with cat-like grace in his padded tabi boots.

The gas hook-up valve around the corner was nestled in a stairwell leading to the basement. It was almost completely covered in snow; he had only been able to spot it because he was directly above the snow bank. He grappled down over the box. The gas had, indeed, been turned off here … but the handle was jammed. He didn't have the strength to turn it on.

A figure approached him quickly from the far end of the lodge.

It was Superboy, sent out to do exactly what Nightwing was doing. He grappled back up the building and watched the powerful boy wade through the snow. Superboy passed the box. It was too well hidden from the ground.

 _Dammit, dammit._ Nightwing scurried over to the end of one support just behind the edge of the roof. He lay down, prone on the beam, and carefully reached under the gutter and around to the snow on the rooftop. He brushed some off it to, hopefully, catch Superboy's attention.  _That looks like ... happenstance, right?_

Superboy glanced back at the fallen snow and hesitantly investigated. Nightwing tucked his arms and legs up onto the beam and lay as still on his back as he could.

He squeezed his eyes shut and held his breath. _Though, I guess if I'm the one who made it 'happen,' and I'm not supposed to be here, don't I really want it to just look like 'stance'?_

_Pay no attention to the heartbeat behind the curtain, Supey._

Luckily, Superboy spotted the gas valve before checking out the roof. He twisted it on casually before heading back; he wasn't listening for a heartbeat that didn't belong almost three stories above his head. Even so, only after the super-powered boy rounded the corner did Nightwing sigh in relief.

Back at the window, Nightwing watched Artemis light a small, smokeless gas fire in the large central fireplace. Everyone swarmed it, rubbing their arms and hands together.  _Phew._

He pushed the disconnected pane to the side and exhaled completely. The window opening was barely large enough to allow him to slide through on his back, even though he was still relatively lithe and small.  _Oh, to be fourteen again._ Inside, he sealed the window with a little putty and crawled along to the beams on the edges of the room.

The acrobat eyed the Kryptonian warily, wondering if he’d pick up on his heart or his breathing, or … maybe the electrical impulses in his brain, who knew?  _This_ was something he'd never worried about before. Superboy looked exhausted, though, and he didn't seem to notice a seventh heartbeat added the cacophony of everyone else's.

 _He must just habituate and tune us all out._ Nightwing shook his head.  _I don't know how he could even think through all that racket._

Aqualad returned with more blankets and some candles he'd scavenged, and Miss Martian and Superboy rooted through the kitchen for food. They all huddled by the fire and ate quietly by candlelight. The darkness enveloped them like a protective cocoon. Nightwing was definitely unconcerned with discovery in the black rafters. It would have been picturesque under different circumstances; the yellow flames and purple shadows flickered slowly over faces, masking the exhaustion and strain of the day.

Wally finished off his portion of canned soup, crackers, and soda; he limped back to the kitchen for more. He coughed hard, shaking, almost putting out the flame on the candle he carried.

 _Hmm. No_. Nightwing carefully followed him, keeping an eye on the clearly suffering boy.  _Not shaking. He's vibrating._ _It started so much sooner than we thought._ An all too familiar apprehension pooled in Dick’s stomach, and he frowned _,_  very frustrated.  _Can't do anything about it right now._

Wally emerged from the walk-in cupboard with a box of sweet biscuit cookies.

 _Augh._ Despite Nightwing's concern for his friend, the cookies were terribly distracting. It had been almost 24 hours since he’d had eaten; they looked delicious. A puzzle piece fell into place, and he eyed them carefully, because if memory _served_ ...

Robin joined Wally in the kitchen, grabbing a cookie or two as well. He stared intently as his yellow friend grimaced through his second cookie.

"Come here," he said, gently pulling him over to the stove. Robin fired up the burners to take a look at the rib’s Wally was cradling. He pressed on his ribs, and Wally hissed loudly.

While Wally and Robin were distracted, Nightwing carefully grappled down to the cookie box and grabbed some. He solemnly munched on the treats back in his perch on the crossbeam and watched the familiar exchange.

" _Dude,"_ Wally groaned. He whirred in protest.

Robin frowned at the shivering boy, "Are you cold or something?"

The hand Robin put on Wally's forehead almost burned; if he hadn't known better, he would have thought the speedster had a fever. But he was a  _speedster_ , so … the temperature was probably in the right ballpark. Also, Wally didn't get infections. He dropped his hand. Unless ...

Robin pursed his lips, distraught. "We have to get that rib out of your lung. You'll be useless tomorrow if we don't."

Wally looked pained. "Really?"

"Stay here. I need to find some things." Robin marched over to the cupboard and dug around. He returned with some salt, alcohol, the biscuit cookies ... and a knife.

Wally's eyes widened. "Uh, where exactly did you get your M.D.?"

"Batman University. Look, I'm sorry we have to do this. It probably won't do any permanent damage, but I don't want to risk it," he said, brow crinkling in concern. "... biscuit?"

"I'm not a dog," Wally mumbled ... but he took the box of biscuit cookies.

It was considerably lighter than it had been a minute before. "Hey! You ate almost all of them. That's just cruel."

Robin looked annoyed. "No, I didn't. When would I even have had time?"

"Do you see anyone else here?"

Nightwing couldn't help but grin just a little. Someone had eaten them, and that someone had been _him_.

"You probably ate them yourself in your delirium," Robin hissed back.

 _Sorry, me._   _How many weeks did you—I—get crap for that?_ But he was glad; the fact that missing cookies made sense now meant that he _had_ been there, before, the _first_ time he lived it. Or maybe second? _Either way, headed in the right direction._

"Whatever. Fine. Let'sh get thish ov'r wih," Wally growled through the last of the sweet biscuits.

He followed Robin back to the lounge, looking a little scared, one eye trained on the sharpened knife.


	4. Flare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Timeline Three  
> Team Year Zero  
> December 10, 2010  
> 6:47 PM
> 
> Summit Ski Lodge  
> Light's Tactical Complex  
> Alpine Ski Resort  
> Yukon, Canada

As Nightwing ninjaed his way back into the main room, padding along the thick knotted supports above the Team, Robin, all business, tucked a blanket under the speedster laying on one of the large wooden lodge tables.

"Shirt off."

Wally was glad no one could see him flush in the dim light of the room as he carefully, painfully wiggled out of the upper half of his costume. The fact that he still buzzed didn't help the pain or the disrobing.

Aqualad frowned. "Surgery, Robin? Are you qualified for this sort of thing?"

"Wally won't get infected. His metabolism makes it unlikely," he replied tersely, snapping on a pair of latex gloves. “I wouldn't even try this with anyone else.”

Nightwing, though, recognized the note of nervousness that had slipped into his tone, and even though he’d lived this himself, he tried not to let his own “all business” demeanor slip. _It will be fine_ , he assured himself, running his fingers through his bangs.

"But …" Artemis crossed her arms. " _Surgery_?"

"I prefer 'extreme field medicine'."

Robin dug through his belt for a syringe and a small vial of morphine. Sucking the entire contents of the bottle into the syringe—enough to put any normal human on their butt for hours—he sighed. "This will probably buy us about five minutes. Maybe ten."

"Aren't I supposed to get a dinner and a movie before this sort of thing?" Wally cocked an eyebrow, glancing at the candles and the drugs.

"You're sick," Robin said flatly, tapping the syringe to remove any bubbles.

"Clearly." He wheezed out a laugh, "calling Dr. Bird Brain."

"Save it for after you're drugged up," said Artemis. "—Kid Feeble," she added.

"Now that's just personal," whined Wally as he lay back down. He vibrated a little as Artemis shoved the blanket back under the speedster's wounded ribs.

 _I don't remember you being such an inappropriate flirt,_ mused Nightwing.  _Well, not at_ ME,  _anyway_. The bittersweet sensation washed over him again. _Guess I should have paid closer attention._

He shook his head firmly. _No, don’t think about it, Grayson. Stick to the mission at hand._

"Hold this," Robin said to the green-clad girl. She took the syringe, and Wally gulped.

"Superboy," Robin said, "Would you hold him down?"

Superboy walked to the other side of the table and placed a hand on Wally's shoulder and his opposing hip. He knitted his brows.

"I'm sorry," he said, for both the injuries and the current situation.

"It's uh … cool," replied Wally, as he shivered erratically. "It happens."

"Ok, borrowing these," Robin said as he pulled the red goggles off Wally's head. "...  _babe_ ," he mocked.

Wally pouted and grumbled, "... you started it."

"What? Wow, you  _are_ delirious." Robin snickered as he snapped them on over his mask and flipped on night vision.

Wally made a face.

Even though infection was unlikely, just to be safe, Robin sterilized the knife with the lighter and washed his hands in salt water and alcohol. After swabbing some more over Wally's broken rib, he injected the painkiller and waited a bit.

"... you ok?"

Wally nodded. "Yeesh," he drawled.

"Try to stay still."

Robin and Nightwing both took a deep breath and held it at the same time.  _THIS_ Nightwing definitely remembered.

The knife hovered over Wally's side for what felt like an eternity before Robin made a small incision over the injury. Wally vibrated and yowled but stayed relatively still. Robin grimaced as he slipped one slim finger under Wally's split rib and lifted gently until it was flush with the other side. Wally's blood clotted almost instantly, and he only bled a little when his body whirred ...

But the rib slipped away.

"Dammit," muttered Robin. Superboy pressed a little harder, but it didn't stop the vibrating. Robin shook his head. Nobody wanted more broken bones.

"M'gann," Robin called, a note of panic invading his tone, "come here! Do you think—maybe—do you think you can you calm him down? At this rate we may have to re-break his rib so it connects properly."

"I can try," she said nervously. Miss Martian flew over and gently placed her fingers over Wally's temples, projecting 'calm' into his thoughts; she herself hissed as she felt his pain. Wally sucked in a sharp breath at the touch.

Nightwing's eyes widened. THIS  _didn't happen before._ He sunk down, leaning against the corner of a vertical support.  _Crap. What did I do wrong?_

Wally gradually stilled, breathing evenly. His eyes drifted shut.

"Thank you, beautif ..." he murmured a little drunkenly as he passed out.

Robin breathed a sigh of relief as he shifted the rib a little higher. He could already feel the bone knitting with its other half. In fact, Robin's finger was in danger of getting stuck as the incision closed around it. He waited about five or six minutes, checked to make sure the joining was smooth, and yanked his finger out. Wally was already halfway healed.

Nightwing shook his head in amazement at this for the second time in his life. He ran his finger over his heart—over the scar left from the arrow's scratch earlier that day. _Some wounds will never heal_.

Miss Martian frowned, her fingers still on Wally's temples.

Superboy glanced over. "What is it, M'gann?"

"I didn't mean read his mind, but ... " she asked. "Robin ... you were with us the whole time before we found Wally by the tree, right?"

Robin raised an eyebrow. "Yeah. Why?"

"Wally thinks that ... he was stuck in the avalanche, and you pulled him out."

Everyone looked at her, confused.

"A dream, possibly?" Aqualad supplied. "... concussion from the explosion?"

"... possibly," echoed M'gann.

Nighwing held his breath.  _That is_ bad _._ He debated leaving, but at this point he wasn’t sure how he’d climb back up to the window without attracting attention. _No reading the good guys' minds, ok, M'gann? Especially not this one._ He pursed his lips.  _Geeze, Superboy and M'gann are a power couple. I don't even want to think about what their kids will be like. Glad they're on my side. Well, usually._

Aqualad placed a hand on her shoulder. "We can ask him about it in the morning. We should all rest now."

"Yeah," M'gann agreed.

Nightwing sighed quietly in relief and peeked out from behind his post. Everyone was gathering blankets and cushions, laying them by the crackling fire. Superman and M'gann cuddled up on the far side of the open fireplace in the middle of the room, while Aqualad and Artemis each took a side, as close to the flames as they could get.

Robin shook Wally gently, who reluctantly returned to the land of the conscious. He dragged the out-of-it boy over to the hearth, where he clumsily slipped back into his costume. Wally propped his chin on his hand and shut his eyes. That didn't mean he shut up, though.

"I get the best cushions, right?  _Surgery_ and all …" he complained.

Robin tutted under his breath and yanked the cushions off the biggest couch. Wally stumbled over, eyes still half-closed, and face-planted into them. Robin grabbed a blanket.

"Well? What do you say?"

Wally mumbled something incoherent into the cushions.

"I just fixed your rib!"

"I want a juice box and a jello."

"What?"

"What kind of hospital is this? Where's the jello?"

"Augh." He tossed the blanket on top of Wally's head.

Robin came back with an apple juice and a jello. "Here."

Wally looked up at him mirthfully. "Thank you, Dr. Bird Brain," he sang.

The corner of Robin's mouth twitched, and he tried to suppress a smile. "Fine."

He took off his cape, draped it over himself like a blanket, flopped down on the floor next to Wally, and quickly fell asleep.

Nightwing lay down on his stomach on the beam farthest from the group, legs and arms dangling lazily over either side. He dozed lightly, lulled to sleep by the soft, even breathing of his friends' slumber, but he couldn't stay asleep for long. Every time he moved the beam dug into something different and woke him up.

Several hours later, the fire died down, and most of the candles had flickered out. Nightwing opened his eyes part-way again as he heard Wally groan below him. The silver moonlight fell over the boy's face, bleaching the color of his skin and making his freckles stand out. Wally blearily sat up on the tan couch cushions he'd claimed and reached behind the decorative firewood for the little green juice box and red jello.

Sipping sleepily on the apple juice, Wally noticed that Robin had rolled a few feet away from the fire, off by himself on the edge of the group. He lay on his side, legs curled almost up to his chest. His uniform was torn open, and he clutched his cape in a ball in front of him, wrapped into a tiny ball in his skinny arms.

He was shivering.

Wally frowned as he shifted off the cushions. He quietly crawled over to his freezing-cold best friend, where he tried to pry the cape out of the boy's kung-fu grip to cover him with it properly. Unconscious Robin was having none of it. Wally hesitated.

Eventually, he lay down beside him, tucking one folded arm under Robin's head and looping the other around his waist. Wally warily watched Robin for signs of waking and/or hitting him, but Robin just relaxed in the glow of Wally's speedster heat and breathed tranquilly. Wally smiled a little, his eyes drooping as he drifted to sleep beside the black-and-red boy.

Nightwing's throat constricted. He remembered that Wally had woken up on the floor instead of the cushions in the morning, but he didn't know … he rolled over onto his back and stared at the ceiling.

His chest hurt in a way that it hadn't in a long time.

_Idiot. ...s._

_All of us._


	5. Freeze

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Timeline Three  
> Team Year Zero  
> December 11, 2010  
> 5:25 AM
> 
> Summit Ski Lodge  
> Light's Tactical Complex  
> Alpine Ski Resort  
> Yukon, Canada
> 
> _Dick kicked himself mentally. You panicked; you let your emotions get in the way—you let him—crap—if things aren't going exactly the way that they did then, what else is going to change? … we may not even make out it of here alive._

The next morning, as the sun peeked over the mountain, Nightwing opened his eyes to the very familiar sound of Robin's early morning calisthenics. He— _I—_ was the first one up; everyone else breathed softly in slumber. Robin stealthily dodged between the patches of warm yellow sunlight filtering through the lodge windows, leaping silently from table to table. _Well, **almost**  silently_. Nightwing smirked a little.

 _Wish I could join me._ He suppressed a groan as he shifted to his knees on the uneven wooden beam: his legs and torso ached in indescribable ways. No opportunity to stretch, though; morning sun was dangerous, and so he slipped further into the shadows on his numb, tingling calves. He massaged his tender muscles as quietly as he could, keeping an eye on his younger self.

Robin took a breather, and out came the birdarang that Nightwing had left behind. He tossed it across the room lightly toward a mounted deer head; it sliced the antler clean off and landed in the wall. Robin's eyes went wide, and he grimaced as the antler clattered to the ground.

"Uh... whoops," he whispered. Nightwing grinned at the memory.

The noise roused Superboy and Miss Martian; Artemis and Aqualad followed shortly thereafter. Wally still slept, snoring softly, sprawled on the floor like he'd accidentally rolled off his cushions in the night. Miss Martian floated luxuriously off the ground, adjusting her form; Artemis aligned the arrow on her chest that had twisted as she tossed and turned the night before.

Robin tossed his grappling hook at the birdarang and pulled the weapon out of the wall.

"What's that?" inquired Aqualad, as he joined Robin and peered at the odd "batarang."

Robin shook his head. "I'm not totally sure. I found it in the warehouse yesterday."

Artemis peeked over his shoulder. "That's the thing that sliced the arrow in half … right before it skewered you."

Robin raised his eyebrows. "That takes some amazing precision," he murmured.

He tossed it at a tiny knot half-way up the wall; it landed in it like a bullseye. The batarang fell again from the grappling hook into Robin's hands, and the acrobat held it horizontally on the tips of his fingers, narrowing his eyes as he scrutinized it closely.

"I don't know what it's made of," he frowned. "But the weight of it is  _perfect_. It's like it was…"

 _\--made for you?_ Nightwing finished his dropped sentence.

Robin tossed it toward the fireplace with a slight twist of the wrist.

"Duck," he commanded.

The birdarang circled around the room like a boomerang, and everyone crouched as fast as they could. Robin smirked obnoxiously and grabbed it out of the air it came back around.

"Sorry," he said, but he totally didn't mean it. "It's  _great_."

 _For the best, by the best._ A matching smirk crossed Nightwing’s face.

"Hmm. Did you guys see anything strange at the warehouse?"

"Not really," Artemis said. "But something happened to Superboy's mind-control device. It shorted or … "

"Superboy?" Robin interrupted thoughtfully. "Maybe Wally saw something."

Nightwing felt light and relieved. He recognized  _all_  of these events:  _this_ was the timeline he had lived.

This conversation was part of the report; _this_ was how he knew to show up at that warehouse; this was how he knew the three things he had to do: pull the device off Superboy, stop the arrow, and make sure Robin— _I—_ took that birdarang home. Without the little projectile, he— _I—_ will never figure out five years later that  _I_  was the one in the warehouse.

 _Probably, anyway._ Nightwing frowned.  _At least that's how_ I _did it._

And what Nightwing had to do after didn’t come from this conversation, but he had some pretty good guesses as to what “he” did.

Robin walked over to the fire and nudged Wally in his good ribs with his foot.

"Hey," said Robin. "Sleeping Beauty. Get up."

"But we can't just leave the cookies there," Wally mumbled. "They''ll be lonely."

Robin rolled his eyes while the others suppressed snickers.

"Wake up, Wally," ordered Robin a little louder.

Wally sat up and rubbed his eyes.

"Ugh," he groaned, looking at Robin, annoyed. "Five more minutes,  _mom_."

"We need to get it together and get out of here," Robin sighed, pulleding Wally up by the hand. "Your rib ok?" he asked kindly.

Wally gently massaged the tender spot, but there was barely even a bruise. "Yeah, basically."

Robin nodded, satisfied. "So, we were wondering if you saw anyone at the warehouse yesterday."

"You mean the guy who yanked out Superboy's mind control device? I dunno, some guy in black swung by and took it." Wally paused. "Probably the same one who threw that batarang, huh?"

Robin stared at him blankly, mouth agape, and he threw up his hands in frustration at the yellow speedster. "And you didn't share this last night with us  _why?"_

Wally sputtered and looked cross. "Sorry, dude, guess being  _smothered_  in an avalanche and getting a  _surgery_  on punctured lung sort of  _distracted_  me," he snapped.

Nightwing blinked twice and knitted his brows.  _Ok, this conversation does NOT align with my memory. Not good._

 _Have I made changes to the timeline?_ He had definitely done everything  _he_ —as Robin—remembered from this case.  _Did I do something wrong during the events that I_ didn't  _witness back then? Er, now?_

"You were in the  _avalanche_?" said Robin, surprised.

 _Did Wally survive on his own last time?_ Nightwing fretted.  _Did someone else dig him out without Robin—_ me— _knowing about it? Did he not get caught at all?_ Dick kicked himself mentally. _You panicked; you let your **emotions** get in the way—you let him—crap—if things aren't going exactly the way that they did then, what else is going to change? … we may not even make out it of here alive._

_Way to kick off a paradox, Grayson._

Wally snorted. " _You_  should know, Robs,  _you're_  the one who pulled me out and gave me mou—"

Wally stuttered to a stop because Robin's bewildered expression clearly showed he had no idea what Wally was talking about ... and that just went all sorts of weird places.

"Uhm," Miss Martian interjected, sweetly raising her hand. "... is it ok if I read your mind? I might be able to pull out who it was …"

Wally flushed but acquiesced. "Fine."

He grinned at M'gann as he hopped on the table. "... only cuz it's you, beautiful."

Wally studiously avoided Superboy's patient eyeroll.

Nightwing, however, was on the verge of panic. This was  _definitely_   _NOT_ the timeline he had lived.

 _Fantastic. At this rate, maybe I should just walk up and say hello,_  he thought dryly.  _I'm in your timelines, fucking up your future!_

Instead, he held his breath, pulled down his goggles, and inched slowly along the beam at the edge of the room toward the window he'd come through.

M'gann closed her eyes and gently placed her hands on Wally's temples again, while he squinched his nose and concentrated. As she triggered a memory of having trouble breathing and freezing, his breath became shallow and uneven; he gripped the edge of the table tightly.

"Wally was suffocating," Miss Martian reported. "... and someone—almost definitely a male—flipped him over and gave him mouth to—"

"Er,  _saved_  him," Wally interrupted and cleared his throat.

Artemis smirked, and Robin raised an eyebrow.

"It definitely wasn't Robin," the telepath continued. "He was big enough to carry Wally to the tree. He said something about his name being ... Night ... something ... and babe?"

Wally flushed bright red down through his chest.

"He seemed to be wearing black," M'gann finished. "But it's hard to say for sure because he was in shadow, and Wally had his eyes closed most of the time."

Robin pulled up a database on his wrist computer of known villains with "Night" in their name.

"Hmm. All the villains who fit that description are either incarcerated or accounted for in other countries right now. And none of them have any known association with Killer Frost or the Mad Hatter."

"... what about heroes?" asked Wally.

Superboy raised an eyebrow. "Then why would he hide? Why would he run away?"

"I dunno, late for a hot date?" retorted Wally. "He saved my life. Not exactly Killer Frost's style."

"Already on it," Robin said patiently. "Same thing. All of them are accounted for and none wear only black right now. I'd have to get to the ship to access the most updated database, though."

Everyone looked expectantly at Robin. Leadership had become divided between Robin and Aqualad as they switched off on a mission-by-mission basis. So the fourteen-and-a-half-year-old hadn't been their leader for long, but they still looked only to him for a plan. He sighed, idly fiddling with the birdarang as he thought.

He didn't  _need_ this on top of the current case. A little frustrated, Robin forcefully tossed the birdarang around one more time around the room. It skewed off course …

… where it lodged itself in a crossbeam, right at Nightwing's feet.

Everyone stared in shock for a moment at the masked figure in black with blue smeared across his chest. Nightwing's eyes widened.

 _... and that is absolutely my cue to go._ Nightwing sprinted the rest of the way along the wall toward the window.


	6. Flash

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Timeline Three  
> Team Year Zero  
> December 11, 2010  
> 5:38 AM
> 
> Summit Ski Lodge  
> Light's Tactical Complex  
> Alpine Ski Resort  
> Yukon, Canada

"Miss Martian!" Robin called.

M'gann flew after the boy in blue goggles as he ripped off the window, flung it at her, and squirmed through the opening. Expertly  _just_  missing all of his friends, he tossed a half a dozen birdarangs behind him for good measure, including a sonic one and a fake explosive. Everyone doubled over at the piercing sound of the sonic projectile and ducked for cover as the fake explosive one beeped and flashed rapidly.

The moment that it took for everyone to recover from the fact there was no blast bought Dick just enough time to double back under the roof instead of beelining it into the snow. As he leapt from beam to beam toward the mountain slope on the other side of the building, M'gann gently reached into his thoughts, trying to find him as she and the team finally poured out of the building.

 _Sorry_ _!_ He mentally apologized for the window. Then he blanked his mind and concentrated as hard as he could. _… Sorry about this, too._

As he leaped directly into a nearby tree without touching the ground, Nightwing briefly heard her mental feedback through the connection.

"He's ... he apologized," she reported. "And now he's singing about ... how he's glad it's Friday? ... and he can't pick a seat? … and  _augh_." He got a mental picture of M'gann clutching her head. "He won't let me into his thoughts, and frankly I don't  _want_  in."

Nightwing smirked.

"... No." M'gann continued her conversation, answering a question he couldn't hear. "He's very good at hiding."

 _Thank god for Rebecca Black_ , he grinned as he slipped out of the pines and behind a nearby boulder.  _Most powerful telepathic weapon ever_. The strain of keeping M'gann out made his thinking very fuzzy, though, and he struggled to shake off the mental fog.

Suddenly, the Team’s voices faded into the background. Nightwing peeked his head just above the rock and sighed in relief.  _Hmm. They'd don't seem to be following me_.  _A small gift._

_But … at this point I think … I think the timeline is completely polluted. What was I supposed to do next?_

His breath came in short white clouds; he panted and cradled his head in his hands, struggling to remember the events, trying to guess what the other him may have done that current him just didn’t know about. _AND I'm going to have that damn song stuck in my head all day._

That didn't help with the thinking. When he squinted at the far side of the lodge, he thought he saw movement in the trees. _Hmm_. Nightwing crouched back against the rock to pull up the report for more details to jog his memory—and got pistol whipped along the way.

_What the … ?_

The acrobat looked up in shock at a leering crook who'd snuck up on the distracted hero.

"Well, ain't I bagged a pretty one?" he mocked, waving his 45 around in his white mittens.

Nightwing wiped some blood away from the corner of his mouth and grinned.

 _It had been way to long_.

Using the boulder for leverage, he rocked back on his hands and launched both feet into the goon's chin. The thug grunted as Nightwing made contact with his jaw in a sickening crack. He flew back into the snow and passed out; Nightwing paused briefly to check his pulse. He was alive, but he would probably need his jaw wired shut.

 _Hit him a little too hard. My control's not that great any more._  One corner of Nightwing's mouth twitched in disappointment. It had been months since Nightwing had  _really_  fought; he'd been preoccupied— _obsessed—_ with more pressing matters.

_Probably doing the world a favor to shut this guy up for a while, though._

As he tossed the thug's gun down the mountain, he heard two— _no, three—_ more behind him. Nightwing spun around: one Gun, two Muscle.

 _Yes. Could use a little more black-and-white-save-the-world these days._ He whipped out his escrima sticks and beamed.

The Gun was trailing behind the other thugs— _he's not as strong_. One of the Muscles advanced, and Nightwing ran straight at him, trapping his wrist between his sticks and yanking him forward. The lithe hero slid through the bulkier man's legs, pulling him down onto his face over Nightwing's head. Nightwing kicked up as Muscle #1 face-planted, and he caught the kneecaps of the startled Gunman hiding behind the larger man’s bulk. The acrobat twisted agilely out of the way as the smaller crook fell over, yelling in pain.

The last minion pulled back to punch Nightwing as he got up, but he sidestepped the blow and, as Muscle #2 stumbled past him when his throw missed the mark, brought his escrima stick down diagonally across his chest. The man He piled on top of his other "friends."

Five more goons emerged from the trees. Nightwing paled.

_What I wouldn't give for a smoke bomb right now._

Nightwing leaped over the bodies below him and engaged the closest crook. He hit the hood's knees horizontally with his sticks, deftly dancing over and beside the other punches and kicks. The snow slowed him down, but it also slowed everyone else down—everyone but the guy with the blaster. Nightwing heard the sharp, high-pitched  _whir pop_  that indicated the gun had charged, and he lunged for the ground.

But the blast fired randomly into the air, and the energy rifle flew across the field, landing inches from Nightwing's head. A yellow and red blur flitted over and snapped it in half.

Wally, goggles firmly in place, leaned over the acrobat.

"Sorry it took so long," Wally grinned sarcastically. "You're not one for footprints, are you?"

He brought an elbow up behind him to catch another hoodlum in the face.

"So," he demanded coldly, "who are you?"

"Sorry, need to know basis."

"Huh. Sweet goggles," Wally commented dryly. "Speedster?"

Nightwing snorted as he propelled himself up off the snow in a half bridge. He snapped another thug in the stomach and brought his escrima stick down on his ear. Before the goon had collapsed to his knees, Nightwing spun back, nailed another crook behind him on the shoulder with a roundhouse kick, and finished a third off by sweeping his legs out from under him. The three moaned into their unintentional snow angels.

"Do I look like a speedster?" he asked.

Wally added one more hood to his own pile of unconscious bodies as he stared, eyes narrowed.

"... nice moves," he said, finally.

Nightwing couldn't help but smirk. "You have no idea," he murmured, grinning suggestively.

"I'm asking again. Who are you?"

 _Crack_ ; another guy face down in the snow.  _Hope I didn't break his leg_.

“What are you doing here? Where’d everyone go?” deflected Nightwing. "These jerks are on the other side of the lodge as well, no?"

_Not that I don't enjoy this._

"Uh … yeah." Wally snapped the tip off a laser gun and dropped it at his feet. "Everyone spread out, and Rob—our leader—sent me this direction." Wally grabbed another one and swung him fifty feet away and turned back to Dick. “Guess I got lucky.”

Nightwing snickered.  _Your illustrious "leader?" Pfft. You'd never call me that to my face._

"What are you doing here?” Wally insisted, “You aren’t exactly exuding “evil,” so why did you spy …"

Nightwing dodged a kick flying in from behind him, and Wally took the creep out. Then there was a deafening rumble, and the sounds of an energy blaster or two came from the far side of the lodge. Wally paused at the noise behind him, looking a little alarmed.

A flood of memories returned to Nightwing.

_NO. The energy gun._

He just barely missed a punch to the gut.

_It didn’t—it was **off** when we found it last timeline— **I** must have turned it off. _

An eerily familiar pattern of laser blasts and explosions erupted in the field beyond.

He was way too far away.  _NO. NO._

Panicked, Nightwing spun back toward Wally.

"Kid Flash! You  _HAVE_  to go back and get  _everyone_  away from the lodge - out of that field!" he said desperately.

Wally looked at him, unsure. "They can handl…"

"NO.  _Get back there_. RUN. THEM. AS FAR. AS YOU CAN."

Wally frowned, "I'm suppos …"

 _Why are you following mini-me's orders so nicely_ now? Nightwing groaned internally.

"Dammit,  _GO_. They'll  _DIE_."

Wally's eyes widened, and he jogged backwards for a second, staring. There was something in the other hero's tone … Wally slipped a little as he spun around and took off as fast as he could, leaving a trail of half-melted snow behind him.

Nightwing's chest constricted, and his escrima sticks fell to his sides.

_I'M supposed to be over there. This is a fuckup to the n-th degree. If only they hadn't caught me ... If only I hadn't stayed in the lodge._

Feeling sick, he stared as the yellow blur shrunk down the mountain.

A goon cracked him on the head from behind.

"Dammit!" he snapped as he spun and smashed the guy's elbow.

The thug dropped to his knees, whining and writhing, the snow around him turning pink.

Nightwing looked at him sadly.

He turned back toward his friends.

_I'm sorry._

He couldn't wallow in self-pity too long, though, because he heard yet  _another_  explosion, this time  _behind_  him in the forest.

Nightwing paled.  _The Batwing_.

Can  _nothing_  go right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 7 Preview:
> 
> _Nightwing lay prone in the shallow crawlspace, about the size of an air vent, next to the broken console, where he carefully patched the intact wires back into their proper places—but about half of the connections had been cut, and the wires were too short now. Ripping off the remaining rubber coatings and twisting them back together as fast as he could, he sure as hell wished he were a speedster **now**._


	7. Fly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Timeline Three  
> December 11, 2010  
> Team Year Zero  
> 6:19 AM
> 
> Double Jeopardy Ski Trail  
> Light's Tactical Complex  
> Alpine Ski Resort  
> Yukon, Canada

M'gann's bioship had been ripped up badly in the previous mission, and the turnaround time on this mission had been faster than the ship could heal. They'd grabbed the Batwing while the bioship healed with J'onn. Nightwing dashed into the trees as he pulled up the GPS coordinates of the borrowed plane from the old report. He grappled his way through the evergreens as quickly as he could, finally pausing in a perch above the plane. Two of Killer Frost's crew picked away at a maintenance panel just under one wing, pulling out wires.

Nightwing sucked in a breath.  _How the hell did they past the shield? Did I leave the windows down with the damn keys in the ignition?_

But no, the shield began to flicker back online, and one particularly nerdy minion gleefully tapped at a podium-sized machine set up on the far side of the plane. It activated an electromagnetic pulse, and the soft light of shield stuttered away again temporarily. The other two goons pulled out wire cutters and laughed as they haphazardly damaged the delicate connections in the ship.

 _Geeze, it's like they're five._ Nighwing curled his lip.  _Ok. Let's get this over with._

 Launching himself out of the tree onto the nearest thug, NIghtwing drew his stick across his throat until he fell slack, even as the other goon leaped onto DIck's shoulders from on top of the Batwing. The acrobat collapsed under his weight, rocking backwards until he could plant a foot on the thug's thigh, roll the guy over his head and slam him— _oof_ —onto his back in the snow. The heavy man groaned and passed out, blood oozing from a shallow but nasty head wound he'd gotten from a rock along the way.

 _Really have to work on that control when I get back. If I get back. If there's anything to get back to._ Nightwing sighed a little. _Who knows how much the universe has shifted by now?_

He crept into the shadows beneath the body of the plane. As he crouched, Nightwing felt a strange, hot pain in his right side.

 _Naughh,_  he groaned inwardly, cradling his abdomen and collapsing to his knees.  _Did those guys hit me?_

It was a bizarre sensation; the pain almost fluttered, fading in and out. His breathing evened after a moment, and he pulled his hand away, expecting blood, but nothing came away on his hands. He frowned as the pain lessened, fading until he was able to focus on the skinny scientist nervously peeking out from behind the giant electromagnetic device again.

"Taylor?" the glasses-sporting man called, wondering where his back up had disappeared to. "Sanders?"

Nightwing snickered and tossed a rock in his direction. When he puttered over to investigate the source, the hero leap-frogged over the sturdy device and, slamming his tucked knees right into the crook's pen-filled pocket protector, took him out.

" _Oof!_ " The hapless scientist crashed to the ground, cowering. "Don't hurt me!"

Dick rolled his eyes and was about to smash the device's controls when the Batwing's shield started to power on again.

 _And here I left the keys in my other pants_.

He grabbed the quivering man by his ridiculous lab coat.

"How do I use this?" he demanded.

"I'll … I'll never tell," whimpered the gray-haired man.

The escrima pressed more tightly against his throat, and Nightwing raised an eyebrow. "I hope you're not too attached to your esophagus."

An empty threat, but it worked.

"The green and red buttons! Hit once and then twice, right after the other."

Once the shield flickered off again, Nightwing gently knocked him out. A quick assessment of the damaged console told him he couldn't reconnect all the wires from the outside. Tapping the entrance codes into the nearest hatch, he crawled inside the ship.

 _Intruder detected,_  intoned the onboard computer.  _Please provide identification codes._

"Wayne-tech override RG 4," Nightwing said calmly, as he pulled away the grating protecting the shallow maintenance tunnel next to the damaged panel.

 _Voice print not recognized._   _Please provide identification codes._

Dick's mouth fell open.  _Uhm_.

"Er ..” he squeaked, almost an octave and a half higher: “Wayne-tech override RG 4."

_Voice print not recognized. Please provide identification codes._

He knocked his head against the bulkhead in frustration.  _What did I sound like when I was 14-and-a-half?_

"Wayne-tech override RG 4," he tried again, splitting the difference.

_Voice print recognized. Welcome, Robin._

Nightwing exhaled sharply and half-smiled.  _At least I didn't sound like a castrati._

Immediately, he accessed the computer, patched security back up, and erased all evidence of his little visit. Dick slid down into the depths of the damaged ship underneath the floor.

_Ok. Fix this—get in, get out, go home._

Lying prone in the shallow crawlspace, about the size of an air vent, next to the broken console, Nightwing carefully patched the intact wires back into their proper places—but about half of the connections had been cut, and the wires were too short now. Ripping off the remaining rubber coatings and twisting them back together as fast as he could, he sure as hell wished he were a speedster  _now_.

The main hatch opened, and footsteps resonated up the metal ramp.

"Recognize temporary identification code SB 7," Superboy mumbled before the ship had an opportunity to ask for them.

Trying not to panic, Nightwing slid the grating above him into place and peeked out as the team returned.

_So much for the "get out."_

His shirt in tatters, Superboy stumbled the rest of the way in, half-supporting a panting M'gann. She was covered in soot, and her clothes—no, her  _skin_  looked burned. Nightwing's eyes widened in worry, and his chest tightened. A completely wiped Artemis followed, sans bow and arrows, and Aqualad brought up the rear, holding a large energy crystal.

 _Whew_ , Dick exhaled and shut his eyes, relieved.  _At least we still recovered the crystal. This isn't a "the Light will take out the League tomorrow with their doomsday device" level disaster._

This happy event had happened before.  _Could be a lot worse._

Then the hatch ramp rumbled as it closed.

 _Wait_ … _where ... where is Wally … and where am I?_

Aqualad tapped on his comm. "Kid Flash, do you read? We have returned to the ship. Do you read?"

 _Static_.

Superboy frowned from his seat on the floor; Miss Martian rested her head on his shoulder, eyes closed. "Try Robin's."

Aqualad nodded: "Robin, do you read? We have rendezvoused at the ship. Come in."

Still nothing.

Even Artemis looked panicked. "What do we do now?"

Aqualad shook his head. "I don't want to leave them behind, but that last explosion looked … ominous. We're going to have to contact the League."

Dick went pale and sucked in a breath. Looking at his hands and patting his chest, he didn't  _seem_ to be phasing out of existence ... so at least  _Robin_ must be fine. 

 _Or else that's just not how time travel paradox rules work_.

 _Did … did I send Wally to his death? How do I get out of here?_ Hyperventilating a little, he eyed his very powerful friends.  _Ok._   _No time for introductions—or to get captured._ _Four to one._ Terrible odds in a closed space. _At … at least they're a little tired?_ he thought, trying to psych himself up while his hands took inventory of everything on his suit.

…  _everything I have for a smoke bomb right now._ He gulped.  _This is futile._

_But it's also Wally._

"Superboy and I can go after them. Maybe I can …," M'gann volunteered, as she opened her eyes with great effort. "… find … we—"

 _Escape routes._ Holding his breath, Nightwing slowly, carefully slid the grate above him aside.  _Which hatch opens the fastest?_   _The one in the floor._ He glanced past Artemis’s feet on the other side of the room. _Too far. I'll aim for the one I came in._

His hands trembled as he prepared for the inevitable clatter he'd create when he launched himself out of this very awkward crawlspace. As he hoisted himself up partway, the grate started to slide with a rattle.

A rattle that was— _very luckily_ —covered by a frantic, hummingbird speed pounding on the hull.

"Let us in!" Wally yelled desperately. "Our comms are fried!"

Artemis scrambled for the hatch controls, and the hatch rumbled open again.

The black-clad hero almost passed out with relief back into the crawlspace. Catching his breath, he used the noise as a cover to replace the grate.

Wally stumbled up the ramp, covered in soot like Artemis, one leg of his uniform half-singed off, and cradling a badly burned Robin in his arms. The explosion had seared the boy's right side, destroying his cape and half his costume. His utility belt was black and several of the pouches melted.

"Where's the first aid kit!" Wally called. Everyone quickly split up to look for it, and Wally vibrated unevenly as he set Robin down on the console.

"I outran them, but they're coming," he said, smearing soot across his forehead as he wiped the sweat from his brow. His hands and uncovered leg were raw with burns, the skin peeling and black around the edges in some spots. "I'm afraid the run was a little rough on …"

Robin coughed and squirmed.

"Where's that first aid kit!" he demanded, zipping randomly around the room, looking in cabinets and overhead compartments.

"NavCon …" wheezed Robin weakly, lifting an arm toward the front of the ship. "Above the navigation console."

"Got it," Artemis said as she fished it out of the small black compartment. Wally immediately snatched it from her hands, pawing through it.

"No more  _painkillers?_ " he cried, the contents of the kit littering the floor.

Robin, eyes closed, confirmed with a small shake of his head. Wally knitted his brow in frustration and guilt. _I gave the last of the morphine to him when I fixed his rib._ Artemis shot him a look and grabbed the kit back, pulling out supplies for a poultice and some bandages. Wally stood by helplessly.

One eye on the opening of the maintenance tunnel, Nightwing wiggled back into place. It was a surreal feeling, watching himself squirm as Artemis treated Robin's nasty wounds. These were new; this was something that hadn't happened to  _him_.

 _I was supposed to stop the explosion. I—the_ **previous**   _“I”— **did**_ _stop the explosion,_ he berated himself.

"They're coming!"

Superboy interrupted Dick's ruminations. He pointed out the windshield toward a wave of twenty or so of Killer Frost's crew swarmed over the edge of the field.

Aqualad stepped hurriedly over to the groaning acrobat in red and black. "I am afraid you're going to have to tell me how to fly the plane, Robin."

"Sure. It's .. not that … ha—" Robin painfully sucked in a breath and groaned. “Computer," he commanded, a little more steadily. "Recognize personal id...identification RG 4. Initiate. Engines and bring. _Nav_ -navigation systems online."

_Voiceprint recognized. Welcome, Robin. Engines initialized._

The ship jostled Nightwing as the engines started up below him. The deep sound reverberated through the tiny tunnel.

_Navigation system activation error. Activation error._

Robin paled. "Bring navigation systems online!" he yelled.

 _That would be this_. Dick thought, picking up the wires near his head. He finished quietly sliding back into position and immediately snapped back to his job, patching the rest of the wires as fast as he could.

"They're almost here!" reported Superboy; he could heard the buzz of charging energy guns several yards away. "What should I do, Robin?" asked Aqualad. "Can I navigate manually?"

"Probably not," moaned Robin.

_Error. Error._

_Crap crap crap._  The older boy's hands shook as he stripped another pair of wires.

"What do we do, Robs?" Wally panicked. “We can’t—“

"Shut up—I'll think of something!” snapped Robin, as he stumbled up to steer the ship himself. He batted Wally's helping hand away. Wally swallowed.

At that moment, Nightwing slipped the last connection into place.

_Navigation systems online._

Robin collapsed into the captain's seat, and everyone sighed in relief. Wally flopped against the wall, not three feet from Nightwing’s head who, in turn, slunk down farther into the shadows. The floor above Nightwing vibrated as Wally slid down the bulkhead to the floor, cradling his head in his fried hands. The speedster's erratic whirring sounded truly unnatural now.

Dick grimaced. He _knew_ that whir. He  _knew_ it was painful, and he  _knew_ how to stop it, at least temporarily. He wanted to help Wally so badly.

_Maybe I can show him somehow on the way home without revealing who I am … even a mysterious note? Is that just playing with fire?_

_Is it worth getting burned?_

_Have I already?_

Robin panted as he punched in the keystrokes required to start the launch process himself. "Should be smooth sailing,” he said wheezed through the pain, “now that the navigation system can take us the rest of the way home."

Aqualad gently helped Robin back to the flat part of the console and replaced him in the captain's chair. The goons below were blown to the ground by the exhaust as the ship propelled itself into the air. Everyone was quiet for the five hour flight home from Newfoundland to Gotham in Connecticut. Wally winced every time Robin groaned as the ship hit turbulence.

"... painkillers wasted on me," he muttered under his breath above Nightwing's head.

His own burns already looked fine.

Dick frowned at his smaller self, who had snapped cruelly at the speedster a moment ago.  _God, I hope I don't_ blame  _him,_ he thought, grimacing in annoyance.  _I really, really, really_ better  _not._

Nightwing's side ached as well, where the goons had gotten him. It didn't really feel like a  _blow,_ exactly _,_ more like a rawness--like he'd been shot with a blaster or badly scraped.

_Guess I should take a look at it._

The engines masked the rustling sounds he made as he wiggled up the top half of his uniform. He ran his hand over the area; there was no visible bruising or fresh wounds … but …

He struggled to get a good look at his side from his awkward, prone angle. Were those … new scars?

But he blinked, and they were gone. His head flopped back on the floor, and again—out of the corner of his eye—he thought he saw the topography of his skin shift … and scar … in the same spot that Robin was clutching right now. But when he looked directly at it, his side hadn't changed at all—still littered with tiny, poorly healed wounds—nothing he hadn't seen the day before. And the day before that. Or before that.

Nightwing reran the events of today when he'd first experienced it, but he heard the echoes of unfamiliar sounds… _a blinding flash of light ..._   _Wally grabbing me from a fire_  …  _my belt burning into my side …_ The images and sensations were like a very poor recording, almost a dream … like one video interlaced with another, every other line.

_Or like feedback?_

He shook his head and pulled his top back into lace.  _I must be making this up. We make up memories all the time. I just_ want _this to be what happened to me, too. That's not what happened._

Once they were over American airspace, Aqualad radioed Batman on the secure line.

"Sit-rep," Batman replied.

"Primary mission objective successful," Aqualad reported. "We obtained the crystal and can turn it over to the League. However, Robin has sustained some serious injuries and needs immediate medical attention."

"Fine," Batman said, after a pause. He almost seemed worried. "Alter course to intercept me at these coordinates in Gotham. I trust all of you can get home from there?"

"Not a problem, sir," replied Aqualad.

"I'll meet you there in an hour," he said as he uploaded the rendezvous point.

"Very good. Aqualad out."

In Gotham, Batman strode determinedly onto the plane, giving the team only a cursory nod as he gently picked up the boy in his massive Kevlar covered arms.

 _I still looked so small,_ sighed Dick.

Everyone got off the ship and waved their goodbyes as they headed in their own directions, but Wally trailed toward the emergency helicopter behind Batman and the boy in his arms like a lost puppy.

As he loaded the now unconscious Robin onto a stretcher, Batman turned to the worried boy.

"Go home, Wally," he said patiently. "Get some rest."

Wally frowned and nodded silently.

Meanwhile, Nightwing slid out of the Batwing stealthily and grappled down the building fire escape as the helicopter took off. He pulled up his console watch and punched new coordinates in Gotham for the temporal portal so that he could return home.

Wally watched until the helicopter was a dot in the sky, lips pursed and arms crossed. Nightwing regarded his friend sadly.

Nightwing's finger hovered over the  _time-dilation_ button for the time portal on his holo-watch, as Wally slowly hopped down the stairs on the fire escape.

…  _would yet another complete rewrite of history be worth … ?_

Wally hit the ground and wandered to the edge of the alley where Nightwing was hiding.

_... yes. Yes it would._

Dick hit  _reset_ on the time dilation button.


	8. Heading West

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Timeline Three  
> Team Year Zero  
> December 11, 2010  
> 10:24 PM
> 
> Rooftop Helipad  
> Wayne Tower  
> Gotham, USA
> 
> \--  
>  
> 
>  
> 
> _"Speak for yourself, Kid **Fat**." Nightwing pushed his goggles jauntily back up into his ruffled hair and stretched flexibly from side to side._
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> __  
> **It looked really, really—**  
>   
> 
> _Wally couldn’t quite put his finger on it, and he laughed sheepishly while he stretched, grabbing an ankle to stretch his aching quads and then leaning over to grab his toes and relax his Achilles. Nightwing looked at him quietly, not staring, exactly, but observing, like he was taking notes on an exotic animal._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No new plot points, but I rewrote almost the whole thing.

"Howdy, stranger."

 Wally slowed to a stop as the masked hero in black sauntered out of the shadows. One hand sat on his cocked hip, and he held the other out with his thumb up, like he was hitchhiking.Wally glanced over his shoulder; everyone else had evaporated. He instinctively reached for his comm, but his fingers brushed over an empty ear.

 … _right_ , he groaned. _It was destroyed in the explosion. Great._ "... you."

 "Me." The raven-haired boy grinned, and the small twist to the corners of his mouth was equal parts gleeful and … mischievous. It was disturbingly familiar.

 The rest of him, however, wasn't. Not really.

 He stood about Wally's height and had his build. Blue stripes zig-zagged across his chest and then extended down the hero's arms and over his middle and ring fingers. The blue goggles that had covered his eyes when Wally had met him on the field were back over his forehead; a large black mask hid most of his face. The guy's longish black hair curled over his collar just at the nape of his neck. He had one side of his floppy bangs tucked behind one ear; the goggles kept the rest at bay.

 _How the hell had he gotten here?_ Wally jogged in place anxiously—chatting totally isolated with a strange vigilante wasn’t high on his to do list.

“So where did you—how exactly—no, no, start at the beginning,” Wally frowned. “Who _are_ you?"

The stranger finally let his hitchhiking hand drop, and he was still grinning, but it softened a little. "Nightwing."

Less mischief.

Trying to remember the names of all the heroes he knew—and the ones Robin had dug up, Wally tilted his head. "Never heard of you. Are you a new sidek—partner or something?"

Nightwing laughed so hard he had to cover his mouth to muffle it. "No. Not anyone's sidekick."

The echo of the laugh hit Wally in a way he couldn’t quite explain, sending goosebumps crawling up his arms. The laugh he heard in the hangar. He adjusted his ear cups; everything was off, like the universe was fitting too tight and too loose at the same time. "Uhm, thanks for the help, er … yesterday."

_This is really weird. How do you thank some dude for probably giving you mouth to mouth?_

Nightwing nodded. "Right back at you," he said, and a note of sadness slipped into his tone. “Sorry I couldn’t do more today.”

 _Hmmm._ Wally decided to get to the point. "... is there something I can, uh, help you with?"

A strange, heavy silence settled over Nightwing as he rubbed the tips of his middle two fingers—the ones with the stripes—over his thumb. The patch of material looked worn there, like it was a habit. He finally cleared his throat.

"Actually, yeah. I was hoping for a ride, speedster."

"... a ride?" he repeated, dumbfounded. _Why in the world would he ask me for a ..._

"To Central City. Heard of it?"

Wally’s jaw dropped. _Is he **making fun** of me?_

"What do **_you_ ** need there?" he said abruptly, feeling possessive of his hometown.

 "I need to go home. My train leaves from that station," Nightwing replied cryptically. "After I run one more errand." His smile was very soft now, hopeful—maybe even a little sad. "Are you headed that way?"

Wally seriously considered lying: _Who the hell **is** this guy?_

But he didn’t.

"Yeah. I live there."

"Well, that's convenient."

Wally hemmed and hawed for a moment. He _did_ owe him his life. At least twice over. Maybe more. Also, Wally couldn't ignore it; Mr. Mysterious made him feel _safe._

He didn't like it. At all.

"... sure. Ok." Wally turned his back to the older boy, bracing for the awkward shuffle of getting someone on his back he’s never given a ride to. Knees and thighs in the wrong places, and elbow in the throat; it was all inevitable. "Just put your legs—"

Nightwing was already there, knees tucked next to Wally's elbows, legs folded at his hips, like he was kneeling. This placed Nightwing's shins in Wally's hands; usually people sat with legs dangling in front. _Weird._ But it would do. He shifted under the odd weight of the boy; Wally rarely carried someone his own size.

The texture of his suit was a little heavier and rougher than Wally expected; it was a Kevlar weave instead of lycra or spandex. An incredibly thin weave for Kevlar—Wally'd never felt anything like it.

Nightwing snapped his blue goggles down over his mask; his black and blue-striped arms slipped around Wally's shoulders.

"All aboard the Kid Flash Express!" Wally could _hear_ the grin in his voice.

"It'll be about an hour and a half—maybe two. That ok?"

Again with the grin. "Take your time."

"... Sure."

Wally set off toward New York, and Nightwing clung to his shoulders. _Again with the_ **_familiar_** . He felt like Nightwing was a puzzle piece that _just barely_ didn't fit—the size and the shape and the _weight_ was _just_ off whatever he was supposed to be. He didn't have a lot of time to dwell on it, though, as he dodged trees in the lush Pennsylvania hills and navigated by cars on the highways in Columbus too fast for the drivers to see.

At some point during the trip Nightwing slipped one hand under Wally's arm and, leaving the other arm over his shoulder, entwined his fingers diagonally across Wally's insignia. It took some of the pressure off his shoulders and distributed it to his torso, so it was actually really comfortable—if it didn't feel so _personal._

Wally's face flushed.

When they finally pulled into downtown Central City, Nightwing had his head tucked into the crook of his neck and was breathing evenly.

"Are you _asleep_?" Wally panted.

No one could sleep through that. Most people couldn't even relax. Even _Robin_ didn't relax.

"No, not really." Nightwing hopped down to the pavement and yawned. He was more relaxed than _Wally_ was, still huffing and puffing from the trip.

Sweat beads ran down Wally’s face as he bent over and propped his hands on his knees. "Dude, you're fat," he laughed, unthinkingly. _Ack, rude._ His head popped up, and he looked Nightwing in the eyes. "Oh, man, sorry … I …"

But there was nothing in them but mirth.

"Speak for _yourself_ , Kid Fat." He pushed his goggles jauntily back up into his ruffled hair and stretched flexibly from side to side.

 _It looked_ _really, really—_

Wally couldn’t quite put his finger on it, and he laughed sheepishly while he stretched, grabbing an ankle to stretch his aching quads and then leaning over to grab his toes and relax his Achilles. Nightwing looked at him quietly, not staring, exactly, but observing, like he was taking notes on an exotic animal.

Wally did his best to ignore the attention. _Be polite._

Nightwing glanced at his watch. "That was almost two and a half hours. You could have broken the sound barrier, you know. Slow poke."

 _I can’t break the_ — " _What_?"

"I brought earplugs. I guess I should have mentioned that." Nightwing reached up and pulled two small, strange looking devices out of his ears.

"Do I _know_ you?" Wally spat out. Okay, so much for polite.

Nightwing seemed to mull this over. "You do now."

Wally narrowed his eyes. _This dude. If I didn't know better …_

"Well … so the train station's about a block over," he said, still panting a little and pointing just past the center of the quaint cobblestone downtown. The streetlights flickered in the evening. It was almost certainly closed. "But … what time's it leave?"

Nightwing shrugged. "I have a while. You're faster than public transportation."

"So ... what are you going to do?"

Nightwing gestured southwest. "Isn't there an all-night diner in that direction? Smitty's? I can grab a bite and ..."

Wally wrinkled his brow. "That's not open for another month."

"... Oh."

"You were going to hang out there in your _uniform_?" It was a cool uniform, mostly, but hanging out in public like that wasn't exactly standard procedure.

Nightwing glanced down and patted his chest. "Oh. Right. So what are _you_ doing?"

"I have to go … house sit.” This was true; his parents were gone for the weekend, but he didn’t specify that he was “house sitting” his own home; even though he’d rather than spending the night at the Cave with the Team. “Otherwise, I'd have stayed ... back east." Particularly this weekend, since Robin was _—_

"Oh." Interrupting Wally’s train of thought, Nightwing swallowed a little. "I guess … I chose a good weekend to get a ride, then." He rocked back on his heels and then forward his toes. "I dunno, aren't you hungry? I am."

Kid Flash frowned, but his stomach rumbled. Nightwing cocked an eyebrow. "Maybe we could run to somewhere that has an open restaurant. I’d be glad to buy you dinner."

_Did this dude just ask me out on a date?_

"... house sitting, remember?"

"Well then... you don’t mind if I patrol, maybe?" Nightwing sighed, resigned.

Wally felt bad, somehow, leaving him alone. He knitted his brows. _I mean, if he doesn't think the house is_ **_mine_ ** _, wouldn't it be safe?_ he rationalized, in a totally irrational way. _I'd be_ **_dead_ ** _right now if it weren't for him. Least I could do is give him a hamburger or something. Or lettuce. Maybe he's vegetarian. Plus, I can keep an eye on him, right?_

"Uh …" Wally paused. _How is this a good idea?_ "You can come to—uh, the house I'm sitting. It's a friend's," he added quickly. "So, not mine."

_HOW IS THIS A GOOD IDEA?_

But it totally felt like one.

Nightwing smiled broadly. "Asterous."

" _What_ did you say?"

 "The stars are nice tonight, don't you think?" Nightwing paused and looked skyward as he clasped his wrists behind his back. "Aster. Astronomy term."

 _Ok. Final straw._ _Robin's relatives are_ ** _dead_** _. Maybe a cousin? Some freaky clone? A long-lost member of the Bat-Fam? There's no way. Twin: category evil?_ Wally cocked an eyebrow. _He's lacking the evil goatee, anyway, but--_

 "... Are you related to Robin?" Wally asked bluntly.

 "Uh … you mean Batman's pa … sidekick? _Related_ to _?_ " Nightwing said with a strange emphasis on the 'related.' "No."

It rolled off his tongue like it was true. Wally weighed the odds that this guy would know "asterous" but not Robin, and they were pretty small. Still. So was the superhero community. He could have picked it up.

 _Regardless, he's got a lot in common with Robs._ Wally frowned again. He still wasn't sure what to make of it.

"... well, hop on."

Nightwing vaulted lightly onto Wally's back, warm and comfortable, like he _fit._

"All aboard," he said. Wally flashed to his house a few miles away.

As Wally pulled to a stop in front of what was actually his house, and as he dismounted, Nightwing raised an eyebrow. Wally shrugged it off.

The path to the modest brick home was lined with immaculately curated poppies and daisies. The green shutters sported a fresh coat of paint, and the automatic porch sconces bathed the entrance in soft yellow light.

Wally did his best to subtly flip aside the sign "West" by the doorbell to dig out a spare key and opened the green door and paused. Pictures of him littered side tables and walls. He turned to the black-haired hero, who kept as neutral an expression as he’d ever seen.

"Uh …" Wally stalled. "I uh … wait just a second."

And, in fact, literally a second later, Wally was back at the doorway, all damning evidence of his lie conspicuously absent. Photos were even rearranged to sort of disguise the darker, un-faded spots protected by the frames with pictures of him in it. Nightwing nodded subtly, as if in approval, as he stepped past Wally and inside.

* * *

 

Five minutes later in the dining room, Nightwing lounged comfortably at the kitchen table, one arm dangling loosely over the back of his chair and a foot propped up on the rungs of one next to him. Wally gave him a funny look over the divider as he rooted through the cabinets for plates.

_Sure knows how to feel at home ..._

Nightwing started a little when he met Wally’s eyes, and he sat up, taking his foot off the chair and politely folding his hands on the oak table.

"Soooo … this is your ... friend's place," he said. "It's nice."

"Thanks. You want something to drink?" Wally leaned into the white fridge. "There's also ice cream."

 "Soda's fine. Strawberry Zestia. You can keep all your ice cream to yourself, fatty."

 Wally peeked over the top of the fridge door, one elbow balanced on top of it. "They don't make Strawberry Zestia."

 "They don't? Really?" Nightwing pouted, fiddling with the fake chrysanthemums sitting on the white doily on the center of the table.

 "Pretty sure I'd know."

 "Hmm. I must be thinking of some other brand. I'll just have water, then."

 Wally snorted and tossed a bottle over the counter peninsula that divided the kitchen from the boy at the table. Nightwing unscrewed the top.

 "Sure is nice of your friends to let you use all their food on strangers," he baited.

 Wally pulled fresh hamburger, lettuce, and tomatoes out of the fridge and didn't make eye contact as he put them down on the counter. "Uh, yeah."

 “I guess they’re cool with you hanging out in your uniform?”

 "So, ' _Nightwiiiing_ '," Wally drawled as he fired up the burners. "You want a burger? Mustard? Where are you from? Tomato? What the hell is your deal? Sesame seed bun or plain?" The questions came one after the other in quick succession as he spun around, arms crossed over his chest, glaring the other superhero down. If he was going to get personal, Wally could get personal right back.

 Nightwing's lips twitched. "Sure, medium. Mustard _and_ ketchup. Can't tell you. Lettuce, no tomato. And, frankly, I don't really know anymore."

 "Hmm." Wally frowned and sprayed a little canola oil on the griddle.

 “Also, sesame seed bun, please.”

 The canola oil snap crackle popped as the buns hit the grill. "Huh. Kinda overly secretive, aren't you? You know, if you hadn't saved our lives yesterday—“

"—and today, " amended Nightwing.

"—I wouldn't be sure whose side you're on." He threw the burgers down on the grill, pressing lightly with the spatula. A snappy response wasn’t forthcoming, and he turned to find Nightwing staring at the table in thick silence, tracing the edge of some carnation petals that had fallen that day at the base of the vase.

"I'm on yours. I'm always on yours," he said quietly.

The patties sizzled on the hot grill and filled the kitchen with a savory aroma. Wally finally cleared his throat. "One or two? Or three?"

 "One's fine." Nightwing smiled as the speedster sliced the vegetables with deadly efficiency and toasted the buns.

  _One for Mr. Mystery, four for me …_ Wally, on the other hand, knitted his brows for the umpteenth time that night as he put the burgers together. _He takes his burgers the same way Robin does. But how could...? Is he trying to impersonate Robin? If so, he's pretty damn bad at it because he needs to actually, you know, **claim to be Robin**. Or something._

 As Wally put the burgers on the plates, Nightwing sighed and stretched. Wally heard him adjust himself back into the more comfortable position in the chair.

 Wally spun around, plates in hand. "Saddle up, du—"

 But he froze at the entrance to the kitchen. Nightwing's mask was casually discarded on the table, and he was rubbing his eyes absentmindedly.

 "Huh?" Nightwing said, looking up. His crystal blue eyes sparkled in the kitchen light.

 Wally's mouth dropped open.

 "I don't think you're supposed to do that, _Robin_ ," he whispered.

 

**Author's Note:**

> All of the Timeline Zero information is (sort of) a spoiler that I had intended to reveal at the end of the story, but I think that given the cascade of changes in the Timelines and the fact that canon is "finished," the differences in Timeline Three from canon would cause significant enough confusion that I want to clarify that.
> 
> The story was always intended to have Timeline Zero (which I originally called Timeline Prime) reflect the show. I do have to shift the schedule of the story and adjust the arrivals of the characters to accommodate later canon, so there are some major changes to do that, but it can be done (and will actually improve the story, I think). 
> 
> This is all thanks to the enormously lucky fact that Dick and Wally's winter birthdays happen close enough to give me room to do that.
> 
> And you want to know what's REALLY screwed up? I chose for the Yukon event to happen in April because I wanted Wally to be already 16 and Dick to be of age by the opening of the story, and their comics canon birthdays happened in January and March respectively.
> 
> But I started the fic before I knew that and had worked that out ... and my first notes place the events of the Yukon on December 10. Ironic that date would still be the best fit when all is said and done.
> 
> Also, it's beyond the scope of this story, but the invasion in 2016 DOES happen, and the Reach arrives in exactly the same way. However, they meet a VERY different Team when they arrive.
> 
> \----
> 
> I started this in May of 2011, during the very first hiatus, so I don't know if any of you remember this old thing, but I'm dusting this off and (hopefully) finishing it! Each chapter will be edited and rewritten if you'd like to read along. :)
> 
> Some of the chapters will have more extensive rewrites than others to incorporate changes that we DO know happened during the timeskip; I'll make a little note above each chapter to let you know how important the rewrite is. Most of them will just be cosmetic: better description here, improved timing there. Some, however, might clarify some things that other people asked about.


End file.
